Revenge
by KatyAniFrancy
Summary: 'Her little sister, blood of her blood. The star, an evil soul. But she doesn't shine anymore, because she was sent to hell. You sent her there, didn't you, Daphne'. The animosity between two sisters, revengeful women and ill ones. Men to blame and to trust. Because Daphne is the real star and Astoria, actually, never was.


**Title**: Revenge  
**Summary**: 'Her little sister, blood of her blood. The star, an evil soul. But she doesn't shine anymore, because she was sent to hell. You sent her there, didn't you, Daphne?'. The animosity between two sisters, revengeful women and ill ones. Men to blame and to trust. Because Daphne is the real star and Astoria, actually, never was.  
**Category**: Harry Potter  
**Genre/s**: Angst  
**Story Type**: One-Shot  
**Pairing**: Daphne Greegrass/Theodore Nott, Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy  
**Rating**: K  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own this perfect characters. You lucky woman, J. K. Rowling ...

* * *

"If someone asked you to be yourselves, what would you do?"

-Obviously, because you said you were the most beautiful living creature … you dare denying it? -  
-Never, sister-

Vanity, pride and arrogance: the other capital sins are just cinches confronted to those.

You know better: you were always last. At Hogwarts you were last as you were at her wedding, at yours also. You were never able to stand in the spotlight, to command, to take the reins. Again, you know better: your life revolves around truly futile things. From the first day after the N.E.W.T. what have you done? You don't know, you can't answer. If you could lie, you'd say that you were a dutiful wife, a mother, and that was enough to stress your delicate pureblood complexion.

You're named Daphne, from the sad and cynical myth about the nymph your homonym. You wish you were just a plant, a vegetative form of life without thoughts. But it can't happen and it never will, as you already know.

Astoria, she's the star, isn't she? Her name points it out for her. Daughter of titans, she married one of them and she had a son: Hecate. In the real world, his name is Scorpius Hyperion.

Ironic, or maybe not, how much your sister was a bitch to you: your favourite constellation, your zodiacal sign. Scorpius. She did it just to piss you and you know it: you can read it in her mischievous eyes.  
If her husband loves her, you will never know. Because his eyes are as cold as yours, and no emotion has ever escaped from them. Glacial, you were nicknamed 'The Ice Princess' at school, where a look was enough to get respect, but a hundred weren't sufficient to demand anything. Those looks, they worked only on his eyes, the one you _never_ loved but always worshipped, the real Prince of the dungeons.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was the one who always bossed you around and then mocked you, marrying your precious little sister when you were the one promised to him. Despite this, with the fall of the deatheaters, everything fell apart … even the pedestal where you put him crashed and your certainties of veneration for him miserably broke down.  
You look at him emotionless, if you really have to look at him, and you don't even do that on purpose. The Malfoy's heir is totally gone from your mind. When you were a child, in your house there was a sort of adoration for a loyal successor, something that you had never been. From obedience to education, passing by the crazy motivations that led your parents to want that horrible tattoo on your left arm, as you were some cow to mark. No, thanks: subordinate to everyone and everything but free to think as you wish. Because of that freedom, you were put aside from your best friend, Pansy Parkinson. She was a true goat for your fellow slytherins. She never let you down, when you needed her. Also, she wasn't truly necessary either. You were part of a pack of pureblooded, young witches: you followed her when she wanted to lead the pack. You were also responsible. But she's gone from your mind, now that's it's free from annoying presences.

Blaise Zabini is still your friend: a curious slytherin, different from the others. You admire him and you have a strong bond with that fascinating wizard. Millicent Bullstrode was a revelation, turned out being less stupid than she appeared; she has married Goyle and she has everything she could possibly want. Including you as a friend. The greater slyths are your friends, not your sister's: you're honoured of this little privilege. Flint, Pucey and Higgs always had a thing for you: three more lineages on your side.

Then there's him: your husband. Raven-haired, contrasting to your white hair, and eyes as black as the deepest of the oceans, while yours are cloudy grey like a storm that is about to begin. He's tall, slender, but not weak. He's vague; his surname comes from the most intimate part of the night, he's charming: you can distinguish every shade of darkness in his irises. He's yours because you love each other and it has been like that ever since. You're both cunning and cold, calculating and impetuous when indispensable. Pureblood, he's similar to you but more independent: he never took the side of the Dark Lord, nor talked to Tiger and Goyle, always quietly and blissfully insulted Malfoy. You saw him as someone to peculiar to belong in Slytherin, too shady to be even human, too slow for being intelligent. You were just _too_ wrong: he was more than clever, more than human, more than fast. You fell hopelessly in love, Daphne Greengrass, and now he's yours.

-You're such a thick vain-  
-Do not think for a moment to be better than I am, you're not-  
-You think? Because you're always just a runner up-  
-No, I don't think so-  
-Pardon? -  
-I'm no runner up, nor last choice. I'm the firstborn. Our parents are dead, think of all the marvellous thing I can do to you now: disinherit you, disavow you, degrade you. I'm more powerful! -  
-You wouldn't dare …-  
-Ask him. Ask your husband about that scar he has on his left arm, if I'm not capable of something-  
-Draco, something you'd like to share with me? -  
-Your sister, she … _caressed_ my arm because we had different views-  
-You forgot a tiny particular, didn't you, darling? He threatened to tell our parents I betrayed my promised spouse with my actual husband. Have the _courage_ at least to tell me how pathetic you are. I don't care about your little star, Draco; you can keep your wife, possibly away from me. But let's face the facts: I loved my partner while he had fun with you and the other scum of the earth, during our seventh year. He dared threatening me … I just stated what I thought of him. A little, bleeding, deep cut on that skull he worshipped so much was enough to clarify it-

Daphne had decided to be free from her sister, blood of her blood, soul of the devil. She agreed with Theodore: better repudiate the ill branch of the family. She would have told all the truth and ruined her sister with it. Oh, that sweet, sugary taste of _revenge_!

-You're a liar, Daphne, sister-  
-No way, ask your loving man who, by the way, lies to you all the time-  
-He does not-  
-Fine, I don't care. Believe what you want. You'll be just Malfoy, because you're no longer part of this family-  
-You cannot do that! -  
-You know I can. And I will, honey-  
-Then do it. But you won't touch Draco or Scorpius again …-  
-My adorable nephew has something you have not. He'll be part of a grand future the Greengrass family has designed for him-  
-And what do I miss, sister? I have everything-  
-Not a spotless blood-  
-I'm pure as you are-

Many secrets were about to fall on the delicate shoulders of Astoria. If only she knew how revengeful her sister could be, how truly she belonged to Slytherin. Cunning, lethal: that was Daphne. All she cared about was to destroy her sister … the last heir of the Malfoys would go down with Astoria.  
She was a viper, quiet and fast. And she was tasting every drop of sweet revenge.

-Here, read this, sweet-loving couple-  
-It's a blank page! Are you crazy, sister? Or just a visionary? -  
-It is not, Astoria. It seems like aunt Beatrix's calligraphy-  
-Looks like your husband knows it better, sister-  
-Daphne dearest, have you stolen it from the Manor? This letter was written to find fake purebloods …-  
-Exactly-  
-No, this can't be true! -  
-Oh, Astoria, it is. You're just a half-sister to me because, you see, we do not share the same mother-

Cascades of poison were running between the two sisters. And Daphne wasn't the one suffocating. Astoria, the star, a halfblooded bastard, born outside the marriage.

-This letter is authentic and you are just a pretty shell of dirt. Well, this can be hidden. You'll sleep with your son and no one will ever know-  
-It's your son too! -  
-Scorpius was born outside our marriage. Technically he isn't because I never recognized him as an heir-  
-Not so easy, Draco. You're going down with her. And I'll be finally left in peace! -

Urge to say something, Draco? Because, what used to be your brilliant revenge on Daphne, turned against you as a much more hostile menace. The snakes are always part of the family, aren't they?

-I'll spread the news everywhere; even the walls will accuse you as you pass by, Malfoy. You'll be haunted for life by your shame. You are dead to me. And you are soon to be the same to the wizard's world-

You perpetuated your revenge that day, Daphne. And you gained your freedom. Live serene, Daphne, because they went down but you upgraded yourself to a newly boundless woman.

"If someone asked you to be yourselves, what would you do?"

"Just tell them to go to hell. I'm _already_ myself."


End file.
